


Tunnis Lunae

by msimamizizam



Series: Bloodborne NPCs [1]
Category: Bloodborne (Video Game)
Genre: Character doesn't die but he does... something alright, Gen, POV Second Person, Reader is the hunter - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-28
Updated: 2017-12-28
Packaged: 2019-02-22 19:46:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,042
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13173918
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msimamizizam/pseuds/msimamizizam
Summary: "Oh, you must be a hunter. And not one from around here, either."In the city of Yharnam, illuminated by the moon and a single pale lantern, a man in a wheelchair sits behind a window and waits for company on the longest night he's ever known.





	Tunnis Lunae

"My name is Gilbert," the man behind the curtain says. "A fellow outsider." As if you couldn't tell by the way his _e_ disappears into the _r_ and how you're leaning against the window to get a peek at him. The glow of the red lantern doesn't offer much more than the moonlight, only serving to illuminate the opaque curtain hiding him from view. As it shifts, you think you catch a glimpse of dark curls and a warm smile.   
  
"Can you help me?" You ask. Your voice doesn't match his, but it gives you away anyhow. A foreigner, just like him. "I'm out on the hunt. I want to end it."   
  
He pauses, and you hang onto the unsteady pattern of his breathing, your gloved fingers resting on the splintering wood of the window sill. His window sill? His house? You're not sure.   
  
"I don't think there's much I can do," he chuckles quietly. "But I'd like to help, even if I can't stand. You seem sane enough. All I can do for a bit of company on this long, long night, yes? Even though you'd be best to leave, if you can."   
  
"I can't," you say, almost cutting him off before he finishes and trying to hide the whine in your tone. You don't want to beg. It seems desperate, even in these times, but there has to be a way. "You must understand. I'm a hunter. I must hunt, until it’s over. So the best I can do is just end it."   
  
"Ah, yes... well. This town is cursed," Gilbert forces out through a bit of coughing. "I pray it doesn't bring you down with it, so we might meet again."   
  
You nod in agreement, even though you're sure he can't see you. That's well enough anyhow— you can only hope that perhaps the curtain will part enough to reveal the first smile you've managed since the moon first rose.   
  
—   
  


“Gilbert, do you know what Paleblood is?”

  
"Paleblood?" He pauses for a moment, even his incessant coughing quieting as he mulls over the word. You imagine him tilting his head in deep thought. Perhaps he's a reader, or at the very least much smarter than you are, and maybe he'll know. Maybe, maybe... "Can't say I've heard of it."   
  
You curse quietly, leaning against the wrought iron bars protecting his window. His coughing is muffled, for a moment, perhaps by his palm, or by a sleeve, and then breaks into a sort of chiding laugh.   
  
"Ah, don't go saying things like that, now," Gilbert admonishes after another fit. "I’ve never heard of Paleblood, but lucky for you, blood is the specialty of the Healing Church. You can find them in the Cathedral Ward, across the great bridge. With the hunt on, this might your chance. Yharnamites don't share much with outsiders...." He trails off, and something rustles between his fingertips. You wonder if they're soft, since he's been inside all this time. Yours have calloused, even under your gloves.  
  
"I'll give it a try," you promise. "Thank you." You push yourself off the fence and sigh, flicking a dried speck of something dark and red off your weapon. Gilbert hums for a moment, and before your other boot hits the pavement you turn around.   
  
"Gilbert, does your window open?" You reach through the bars and push up on the wooden frame before he can answer. After some force, it gives, and then raises up ever so slightly. You hear something squeak and a hand presses up against the glass.   
  
"What are you doing?!" He hisses, his breathing ragged in his panic. "Are there any of them around? I don't want anything coming in here, I can't fight!"   
  
"I know, but don’t worry. I’ll protect you." You pull a handkerchief out of your pocket, your initials carefully embroidered into the corner. "Please, take this. I want you to keep it." Your fingers reach past the barrier, and the hand on the window pane drops down to meet yours. His fingers slid in between yours, just for a second, taking the cloth. He laughs and coughs, at the same time, and then passes another back through.   
  
"Take mine, then," he says, a smile laced into his voice, laden with an outsider's accent. But no longer an outsider to you. "So we both have a piece of each other. I expect you’ll come by again soon?"  
  
You nod excitedly as the window shuts and the curtains hide Gilbert again from the outside world. You look down at the embroidered cloth and tuck it back into your pocket, ignoring the red stains.   
  
—   
  
When you return again, your weapon and your hands are bloody. Your muscles ache, and it takes everything to drag yourself to his window and resist the call of resting in the dream.   
  
"It's closed," you say, hanging on to the bars with everything you have left. One hand grasps at the iron, and the other is fighting against the gash in your stomach to keep your intestines inside. You search the light behind the drapes for any movement, anything. "The gate, it's closed. Gilbert, what do I do?"   
  
There's nothing but silence. You bite your lip anxiously, reaching in and knocking at his widow. Your stomach drops and you wish your bones would just crumble. Maybe if you died, he'd be there again.   
  
"Yes, I see...." You suddenly pop to your feet, your mask not able to hide the wide smile stretching across your face. "The great bridge is the only way, though. Perhaps you could try the aqueducts?"   
  
"The aque-? Aqueducts?" Of course. That'd make perfect sense, since you’d need to connect the systems together, of course, of course. You sigh with relief, your thoughts unraveling incoherently as you lean your cheek against the bars to feel the cold. "I knew you'd be able to help."   
  
"I'm just offering what little I can," he replies. His coughing pervades every sentence. You don't remember him coughing that much. Perhaps it's just the echo. "You don't seem to have much of a choice either way. Try south of the bridge. It's a rather, ah... how shall I put it, colorful place. Be careful."   
  
"I will," you mumble in reply. "I have to dream again... but I'll see you soon. Don't worry." Gilbert is quiet, and maybe he knew what was up there, protecting the bridge, but it wasn't enough. A far worse beast had come to meet it in the interest of protecting a little window by a lamp.   
  
—   
  
"You don't have much of a choice, with the bridge closed," Gilbert repeats when you awaken again. You sigh and shake your head, eyeing a nasty scar on the back of your hand before putting your gloves back on. The dream takes away the pain and most of your wounds, but some stay behind.   
  
"It's awfully dark down there," you mutter, closing your hand into a fist to break the leather in again. "But it's not so bad. I just wish there was another way across."  
  
"Ah, so do I," he laughs. "Not that Yharnam isn't dangerous enough already, but that place, it's... not somewhere you'd normally choose to visit, I imagine." He punctuates with more coughing, and you can't help but exhale heavily again. "Be careful."   
  
"I know. I will," you promise. "I'll be back soon." You've been by enough now to know that Gilbert will just hum and nod in reply as you walked off.   
  
—   
  
Your hands have more blood on them than the last time you spoke with him. Your weapon's handle glitters with something deeply red, and the darkness of the jewel seems to cloud your thoughts. Your mind is clear once you see his lamp still lit.   
  
"Gilbert?" You reach through and tap your knuckles on the glass. "Listen, I made it to the Cathedral Ward. There's a chapel there, you can—"   
  
"Ahh, you needn't concern yourself with me," he almost croaks, cutting you off. He coughs, and you can feel your own bones shaking with every hack. "I'm afraid I'll be of little help now. Take this...."   
  
The window inches its way up and he uses all of his remaining strength to push something large and shiny through the gap. You reach in and take it, turning it over in your hands before flicking the trigger. A burst of fire spits out of it, making you jump back and nearly lose your footing on the cobblestones. A Flamesprayer. Much better than your torch, but less for light and more for combat. How did he come to have one? Before you lift your head up again, much less ask him anything, the window is closed and latched again.   
  
"Thank you," you finally reply. You sit down on the cobblestones, leaning your back against the iron fencing. He stutters on every breath, and though you wish you could fix it, Gilbert's coughing is almost like the only home you have. Something more real than the ethereal, untouchable dream world, and something safer than the nightmare around you.   
  
"What inflicted me was incurable, but this town and their strange blood brought me hope," he rasps. "It bought me time. Time I was able to spend with you...." He trails off into a wistful laugh that soon devolves into more violent hacking. "I can even die human. Isn't that nice?"   
  
"Gilbert, don't say things like that," you beg, leaning your head against the metal curling. "Please. I can end the hunt. And then... you can go home. We can go home. Please." Your hand slides over your face, blocking the moon from your eyes. Maybe you can wake up for real and it'll all be gone.   
  
"It'll be alright." Even still, you can hear his smile. "I believe you'll be the one to do it. You are my favorite hunter, after all... you're the one that kept coming back. I'm glad... I'm glad, you have that piece of me with you. Even when I die, you'll...." He can't finish his own sentence. You pull the handkerchief out of your pocket and sniff, your eyes tracing the initials sewed into the corner.  
  
"I'll be back," you swear, standing up. "And when I do, you better be here." You leave without a proper goodbye, extending your weapon and storming down the stairs.   
  
—   
  
"Why... me... why...." His voice is too distant now. You grip the bars tightly  and shake them, cursing everything, the moon, the hunt, this damned man and his shitty blood.   
  
"Gilbert!" You cry out, hoping he'll hear you, you heart beating against your chest with the need for him to hear you.   
  
"What have I done....? Save me," he begs. "Save me, please...." Something falls over and your eyes widen, hearing the squeaky wheels turn in the air. You want to pound against the glass, shatter it, break the door down, but none of it gives.   
  
"I'll do it!" You scream, your voice growing almost as hoarse as his. "Gilbert, I'll save you! I promise! I'll be back, please still be here— don't leave! I'll save you, I'll save you...." You cry, your hands bruising from your grip on the iron, your cheeks wet. Maybe it's good the curtain hides you, so he won't see how ugly you've become over him.   
  
"I'll be back," your voice fades as you run. "I'll save you, Gilbert, I promise. I promise..."   
  
Gilbert's fingers drag down the cold glass as he collapses onto the floor. His moon has gone, hidden behind a cloud. She will come back soon... she has to....  
  
—   
  
The moon is red now. It casts an eerie glow around his room. Gilbert turns to the window, a smile splitting across his face as he drags himself over to press his cold paw against the glass.   
  
She said she'd come back, she promised, and here she is... the moon, come to save him. The glass cracks under the pressure of his claws and he tears through it. The iron is even easier, bending with just a slight push.   
  
The small lamp glows pale, the moon hanging overhead still. That's where his moon comes from, when she awakens from the dream. She still has to save him. And he'll make sure she does... 


End file.
